


Blame the Tequila: Chapter Seven

by gemini_cole



Series: Blame the Tequila [7]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_cole/pseuds/gemini_cole





	Blame the Tequila: Chapter Seven

            The rhythmic pounding of his shoes on the pavement was usually soothing. This morning, however, every step of his run felt like a taunt, and the tiny voice in the back of his head repeated over and over, “it’s not yours, it’s not yours.” It had been nearly 2 weeks since the fight in Tandy’s apartment, and while the paternity tests had been administered to both Tom and Frankie, the results were not yet in.  A frigid silence had descended between the two of them in the meantime.

            Grimacing in frustration as he realized that he wouldn’t outrun the voice, he turned, sprinting the last mile home. Running up the steps to his flat, he was surprised to see Luke waiting for him.

            “I tried to call, mate. Your mobile went straight to voice mail.”

            “You’re here in person. Must be serious.”

            As Tom unlocked the door and let them into his flat, Luke pulled an envelope out of his suit jacket. Walking to his refrigerator and grabbing a bottle of water, Tom regarded the envelope warily, and guzzled half his bottle before grabbing it out of Luke’s outstretched hand.

            “Did you read it?”

            Luke sat at the counter as he adjusted his cuffs, meticulously avoiding Tom’s gaze. Finally he replied, “It’s your test results, not mine. I know where to draw the line between business and personal, Tom.”

            “Maybe, but this impacts both. You’d have been within your rights. So did you?”

            “Obviously not. Want some privacy?”

            “Like I said, it affects you too. If it isn’t mine, you’ll be the one handling how to deal with the fallout in the press.”

            “All right then. Get on with it.”

            Tom eased his thumb under the edge of the envelope and carefully ripped it open. Withdrawing the single sheet of paper, he opened it and skimmed the brief letter before exhaling a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Tossing the letter on the counter for Luke to read, Tom stalked past him to fall into the nearest chair.

            Luke skimmed the letter as he turned to regard Tom. Folding the letter precisely and returning it to his suit coat pocket, he asked, “Feel better?”

            He replied, dazedly, “I’m going to be a father.”

            “Looks that way. So, now that you know for certain, how are you going to fix things with Frankie?”

            Tom jerked, as if awakening suddenly. “Fix things with Frankie?”

            “From what I saw at the office the day of the test, she was awfully angry with you, Thomas.”

            “Surely she could understand why!”

            Luke shrugged non-committedly. “It’s always been my experience, that understandable or not, most people don’t enjoy being called out on their possible ‘misadventures,’ as it were. My guess is that an apology wouldn’t go amiss, especially if you intend to have any sort of chance at an amicable relationship with the mother of your child, and the child itself. You need to calm the waters, friend.”

            Tom sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face for several seconds before muttering, “yeah. Yeah, you’re probably right. Fuck, I’ve fucked it up royally, haven’t I?”

            “Being right is generally why you pay me. Go take a shower. You’ve got groveling to do, my friend. I’ll let myself out.”

 

 **********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

            Several hours later found Tom, clutching a bouquet of pink peonies and roses as he mounted the stairs to Frankie’s apartment. He rang the buzzer several times, not getting an answer. Thinking maybe she was still asleep, he was about to pull out his cell phone and call her when an elderly woman smiled at him as she pushed open the front door. Holding it open for her as she toddled out, Tom smiled winningly at her before darting inside.  
            Tom took the stairs two at a time, reaching Frankie’s door in seconds. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he knocked. And waited. Again there was no answer. Pressing his ear to the door, he knocked again, hoping to hear any sounds of life from inside. He was just about to knock again when he heard,

            “She’s not here.”

            Tom spun around, practically coming nose-to-nose with a glaring Tandy. He smiled at her, determined to win her over as well as he responded, “I guess I came at a bad time.” Then he checked himself, and exclaimed, “Wait. How do you know that? And if she isn’t here, why are _you_ here?”

            Tandy held up her hand, full of envelopes and magazines. As she shoved the key in the lock and opened the door, she spit out, “Picking up her mail. And it’s none of your damn business where she is. What matters is why are you here?”

            Tom edged inside before Tandy could slam the door in his face. Holding up the flowers, he stated matter-of-factly, “I got the test results back. I know the baby is mine. I came with a peace offering.”

            Tandy snorted. “Frankie already knew that, you jerk-faced asshole. And it’s going to take a whole lot more than some flowers to get back in her good graces.”

            Tom replied mildly, “Now, now. There’s no need for name calling.”

            Tandy tossed the mail on the kitchen table. As she went to the kitchen sink to get water for the plants she replied vehemently, “You essentially called my best friend a whore. I can call you whatever I want.”

            “All right, now that the name calling is over with, where is she?”

            Tandy brushed past him as she went to water the plants in the living room, choosing to ignore his question. Tom waited, shoving his hands in his pockets, as she moved carefully from plant to plant, stopping here and there to pluck a dead leaf or two. After several long moments, he tried again.

            “Tandy, where is she?”

            “Why should I tell you that?”

            Tom groaned in frustration. “Because I need to talk to her. We need to work things out.”

            Tandy turned to face him. Deliberately she set the small watering can on the floor next to her. Running her hands through her hair and tucking it behind her ears, she finally replied, “You know what’s sad? I was rooting for you.”

            Tom raised his eyebrows, “Beg your pardon?”

            She went on. “I was rooting for you. When Frankie told me about your one-night stand? I was rooting for you, because I’d heard so many good things about you from friends. I thought that regardless of how you two had started, maybe you could be the one to finally pull Frankie out of herself a little. Because she needs someone like that, you know? She needs someone to remind her of the fun in life, and to not take herself so damn seriously. Someone who appreciates her for the person that she is. She is a wonderful, sincere, sweet, loving person when you get to know her. And she’s so funny, and smart, and yeah, even a little dorky. She doesn’t let enough people see that. So don’t just stand there and tell me that you want to ‘work things out.’  Because that isn’t enough for me to go against every fiber of my being and tell you where she is. I need to hear that you get how important this is. I need to hear how you’re going to grovel, plead and beg for her forgiveness. How you know now that you were wrong to say what you said. Tell me that, and I’ll consider telling you what you need to know.”

            Tom replied slowly. “I don’t know that I was wrong. How was I to know, when I show up and a half-naked man answers the door? Then he claims that the baby is his? I don’t know anything about her life or how she lived it prior to how she met me.”

            Tandy interrupted, sneering, “Did you bother to ask? Or did you just assume?”

            Tom stopped, and he sank into a chair as the realization hit him. “Yeah, I guess I sort of just assumed the worst. Shit. I fucking fucked this up royally, haven’t I?”

            Tandy softened as she watched Tom’s head sink to his hands. After several moments, she came and sat down next to him. Sighing, she muttered, “I’m going to tell you something. I probably should let Frankie tell you, but she’s so stubborn that I know she won’t. She barely talks about this stuff to me. Cal was an ass. I know you saw that the day you were here, right?”

            Tom nodded in the affirmative.

            Tandy continued. “Well, he wasn’t, isn’t always such an ass. In fact, he can be pretty charming when he wants to be. He was the first guy Frankie dated after we moved here, and her first serious boyfriend since her college sweetheart. But he gradually started saying things here and there, talking down to her, ignoring her, trying to get her to change who she was, saying she wasn’t “enough.” Enough what, I don’t know. When he cheated on her, he had the balls to blame her, and she believed him. They broke up. That’s when he really started using her, he’d come crawling back, talking sweet and apologizing, staying here for extended periods when he was between jobs and apartments, borrowing money and not paying it back, regardless of the fact that he said her job was “stupid and unimportant drivel.”  She finally kicked him out for good when she caught him fucking another woman _, in her bed._ She hasn’t been with anyone since, She acts tough, and like she’s got it all together, but inside, she’s so tenderhearted and sensitive. So you see, Tom, she is the furthest thing from a whore. But the fact that you could fly off the handle like that, and say something like that to her? All you did was push her further into her shell. So, even if I tell you where she is, you aren’t guaranteed to get anywhere with her. This may not be fixable.”

            Tom closed his eyes, taking in everything Tandy had just said. In the last five minutes he’d learned more about Frankie than he’d gleaned from her in the entire past two months. He could see why, given this new information, Frankie had chosen to flee. Suddenly, every moment that passed without him trying to find her, to apologize for being an utter arse, felt like a waste.

            Tom gripped her arm, pleading with her, “Please, Tandy. I need to see her. Tell me where she is. Help me make this right.”

            Tandy sighed. Standing, she walked to the kitchen. As Tom stood watching her, she bent and tore off the back page of a magazine. Scribbling for a moment, she stood and handed to him an address, with a hastily drawn map.

            “Peachtree City, Georgia. Our hometown. The address is Frankie’s mama’s house. Turn left at the Dairy Queen, and if you hit the train tracks, you’ve gone too far. And Hiddleston? Don’t make me regret giving you this. I’m breaking every rule in the girl code.”

            Two minutes later, Tom strode out of Frankie’s apartment, dialing his cellphone. Folding the paper neatly in his pocket, he spit out, “Luke? I need you to get me a flight, immediately.”

           

           


End file.
